


Luck (Be A Lady Tonight)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, coarse language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snow storm and a little good luck brings Rachel and Puck together in more ways than just one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck (Be A Lady Tonight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shirley-temple-curls](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shirley-temple-curls).



The wind whipped around her so violently, she felt as though she were being pushed back two steps for her every, trudging one. The red scarf wrapped around her face did little to keep the chill out; in fact, she considered the possibility that it was now just frozen solid, molded to her icy cheeks and mouth, her teeth chattering hard enough, that if the wind wasn't so insistently shouting in her ears, she was sure she could hear the clacking of her pearly whites.  
  
Not for the first time since leaving for her dance lessons, she wondered why she ever thought going out in this storm at all was a good idea. Transit buses had still been running then, however, and she'd convinced herself that the five minute wait for it to arrive when she finished would be well worth her future Broadway career. However, when she finally left the studio, she realized that the majority of Lima was trapped beneath an awfully large amount of snow. Still overly warm from her dancing, she thought perhaps she could make the trek and barely feel the icy fingers of winter clawing at her skin. She was terribly wrong. She only made it three blocks before turning back around and racing back toward the studio. Unfortunately, it was locked up tight and everybody on staff had retreated to the warmth of their houses.  
  
Taxi's weren't driving, buses had quit trying to get through the blizzard-like conditions, and she was sure that some news anchor somewhere was telling everybody that the smartest thing to do would be to stay inside and wait for it to pass. With legs like lead weights beneath her as she tried to walk through three feet of soft, pristine snow, she blinked back burning tears. Perhaps she wasn't as intelligent as she'd once thought she was. She knew the storm was coming; they'd been talking about it all week and her daddy had an unusual fondness for the weather channel. But she hadn't thought it would be  _quite_ this bad, and she had been almost completely certain that the buses would still be running.  
  
If her parents weren't out of town for a conference, she knew they would brave the storm to come and get her. Unfortunately, they were in Connecticut and so she had no choice but to keep trying, keep pushing, keep hoping that she wouldn't suffer an early demise, before she'd ever reached any of her goals or dreams.  
  
She started praying at some point; perhaps when she could no longer feel her body, though it still kept moving. Maybe when the tears clouded her eyes so terribly that she could no longer see where she was going, if she was on the right block, if she was even moving any more. Or more likely when she fell to the ground, arms wrapped tight around herself, knees drawn to her chest, and felt defeat like never before.  
  
What she did know was when her prayers were  _answered_.  
  
There was a honking horn; blasting wildly.  
  
She turned her head abnormally slow; her hair was frozen and she fell it scrape along the back of her neck.  
  
She had to blink through the fog of her eyes a few times before she finally spotted the familiar old blue Dodge truck, idling across the street, through a haze of thick falling snow.  
  
Her heart hammered hopefully.  
  
"Noah?" she asked, though her lips were cracked and cold, and she couldn't be sure if they even opened to full capacity.  
  
And then a figure; tall, wide-shouldered, strong, and dark in jeans and a black hoodie.  
  
"Jesus Christ, Rachel, is that you?"  
  
She reached for him desperately, her teeth chattering even harder as she tried to smile, revealing her teeth further to the cold.  
  
"Fuck," he cursed, and then he sped up.  
  
He gathered her up out of the snow like she weighed nothing; like the ice that clung to her and her heavy limbs were hardly noticeable. He carried her bridal style back to his truck, slipping only once on the icy road. She felt his arms tense all around her before he caught his footing. And then, because he simply  _had_ to tempt fate, he caught another patch of ice and purposely skidded along it, hooting in her ear and laughing.  
  
If she had the ability, she would have rolled her eyes.  
  
He tucked her in the passenger seat of his truck and slammed the door before circling back around to his side, blowing hot air into his hands as he went.  
  
Her eyes followed him before darting thankfully toward the vents pumping out hot air.  
  
Puck slammed his door and immediately turned to her. "I knew you were crazy, but c'mon," he muttered. And then, without asking, he reached out and started undoing her jacket. She might have protested if she could speak properly, but the best she could do was glare at him reproachfully.  
  
"You're gonna start melting, and then you're gonna get pneumonia, and I'm pretty sure the roads to the hospital are blocked."  
  
Admitting silently to herself that he might be right, she watched him unbutton her jacket, long fingers moving deftly.  
  
He dragged it down her shoulders and off her, dropping the soggy fabric to the floor of his truck by her feet. He unwound her scarf next and it suffered the same fate. And then, with a carefulness she hadn't previously associated with him, he took her hands in his and started rubbing feeling back into her cold, red skin. He cupped them and blew bursts of hot breath into her palms until they startled to resemble something other than frozen, gnarled icicles.  
  
"Good?"  
  
She stared at him with a little bit of awe before finally nodding.  
  
Still, he put her hands over the vents before sitting back. She watched him as he turned the steering wheel, pushing them back out onto the snowy, icy road, to destination unknown. She knew he knew where she lived; he'd visited quite a bit during that one week they dated, and a number of times since. She was quite proud to include Noah on her short list of friends. But she hadn't seen him since school let out for the winter holiday and wasn't expecting to see him; except for perhaps the last night of Hanukah, when his mother usually dragged him to their synagogue and he promptly thanked God for his "awesome swag."  
  
But here he was, exactly when she needed him. And wasn't that just the story of their relationship? Though he had a habit of putting on a good show of not caring and of only looking out for himself, she couldn't count on both hands how many times he'd gone out of his way to help her or stand up for her or just generally be there when she needed someone. Sure, he did it with his usual 'whatever' attitude, but actions spoke louder than words.  
  
The heat in the cabin of his truck was almost unbearable, but she welcomed it whole-heartedly. Even when feeling came back to her body so sharply it was pure agony. Pins and needles riddled her limbs and her hair began to drip as it thawed. She unfurled from the ball she'd made of herself and let her legs fall over the edge of the seat. She rubbed her hands together as they stung, blood rushing to the tips of her fingers and back.  
  
As she shivered, he frowned darkly.  
  
"What the hell were you doing out there?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation. "Whole damn town's getting eaten by Father Winter and you what? Decide to go for a  _walk?_ " He snorted, shaking his head as he took a turn sharply.  
  
She pursed her lips at him. "Of course not! I had a dance lesson. The buses were working fine; I didn't see the problem…"  
  
His eyes widened as he turned to stare at her incredulously. "You almost died in a fucking snow drift and you don't see the  _problem?_ "  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Well it wasn't like this when I left," she told him, motioning out the window. "I was at the studio longer than expected. I just can't get that jump right…" she muttered. "And when I left, I realized that there was no traffic… Everything had basically shut down…"  
  
"So you started  _walking?_ "  
  
"Well it seemed the only logical thing to do at the time… I couldn't stay at the studio much longer or I'd be stuck there overnight… Possibly  _days_ , and there is  _no_ edible food in that building." She shook her head adamantly. "I don't live very far away; I was sure I could make it."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"Yes,  _obviously_ , I miscalculated the distance… Or my aversion to cold, I'm not sure which."  
  
"Maybe your crazy meter. Maybe it's a lot higher than you think it is."  
  
She frowned at him. "Noah…"  
  
He half-smiled, shrugging.  
  
Wiggling closer to the heater, she considered draping herself across it, wanting to absorb it all inside until that pit of freezing ice settled at the very core of her body would finally melt.  
  
He watched her a long moment, driving the truck with one lazy hand held in the middle of the steering wheel.  
  
"Here," he said, before using his knees to keep the truck steady, ignoring her worried protests, and dragged his hoodie right off of himself. He held it aloft, ticking a brow when she stared in surprise.  
  
"I'm wet," she said.  
  
He smirked suggestively.  
  
Rachel scoffed, hoping he thought her pink face was from exposure and not the blush that was flushing her cheeks.  
  
Letting it go rather than taunting her crudely, he said, "Yeah, well, it happens." He wiggled the sweater at her meaningfully, and finally, because she really desperately wanted to anyway, she took it from him, and slipped it over her head.  
  
It swamped her tiny form. In fact, she was sure it was already a size or two too large for him, so it looked gargantuan on her. But it was  _exactly_ what she needed. The inside was made of an incredibly soft fabric that felt wonderful against her chilled, sensitive skin. And it was so warm and comfortable and  _oh_ , but it smelled absolutely  _intoxicating_. In fact, she turned her head and buried her nose in the shoulder, just breathing it in. It smelled like him; like his body wash and cologne and something distinctly  _Noah_. Her eyes fluttered and she leaned back in the seat, hugging her arms around herself and snuggling her face further beneath the hoodie.  
  
"Thank you," she breathed.  
  
He hummed in reply and took another turn.  
  
She gazed at him, face buried beneath the neck of his sweater, eyes peeking over the rim. He was wearing a t-shirt, the sleeves of which seemed to stretch across his biceps, clinging each time they flexed. The vague memory of squeezing and tracing his arms cropped up and she battled a smile. He really did have lovely arms.  
  
When his eyes met hers, she knew she was caught. She cleared her throat and feigned as though she wasn't slightly embarrassed for gawking at his attractive arms. "What were _you_  doing out here?" she wondered, shifting in her seat to face him a little better.  
  
"I was hanging at Finn's… Weather got gnarly, figured I should head home… Ma's probably losing her head right now…"  
  
Rachel was happy to note that she  _still_ didn't feel any pang over hearing Finn's name. They'd been broken up two months now and she was quite pleased with her progress. She hadn't fallen back into old habits of getting back together with Finn, whether because she was insecure or lonely or desperate for love. She accepted that they were on difference paths and simply weren't meant to be. She had thought at first that maybe they could spend their senior year together and go their separate ways in the end; or more accurately, she might be able to convince him that New York or NYADA were the kind of places he should want to be. But as summer fled and their senior year brought with it reality, it was painfully clear that Finn wanted to be in Lima, and he wanted her to be there too. It had been hard, realizing that all of her chasing of a boy and fighting for his love hadn't paid off the way she had expected. She still loved Finn; she always would. But it had become a different kind of love; like an affection she could accept fondly as that which she felt for someone who had made a remarkable difference in her life and who she would cherish from afar, years down the road, when she was in New York and she looked back on where she'd come from and who she'd been.  
  
Yes, she had lost Finn, but she was gaining so much more. Independence; confidence; inspiration; and most importantly, she was  _regaining_ her dreams.  
  
"Why didn't you stay there? It would've been safer," she told him, in a somewhat chastising tone that she regretted might sound entirely too much like his mother.  
  
"Think of it this way, B… If I'd stayed, you'd be a popsicle."  
  
You rolled her eyes, though her lips quirked at the nickname she'd grown quite fond of. "I appreciate the assistance," she told him. "Although I'm sure eventually I would've gathered by strength and continued home."  
  
"You were facing the wrong direction," he told her simply. "Musta got turned around… If it wasn't for that bright red jacket of yours standing out like a damn beacon, I probably wouldn't have seen you…"  
  
She frowned. That was unsettling. Perhaps she really did owe her life to Noah Puckerman. "Well, then maybe fate really is on my side today."  
  
"Yeah, or it just turned its back on you…" He sighed, shaking his head as he stared out broodingly at the street ahead of them, piled high with snow. "The road to my place is blocked off…" He frowned. "I already tried the other way before I ran into you; there's no way I'm getting through this… Where the hell's the snow plow douche at anyway?"  
  
"What do you suggest we do then?"  
  
He snorted. "I'm running out of gas. The only option we've got is hoping your place isn't blocked." He put the truck into reverse and then turned his head to see where he was going, squinting through the wall of falling snow.  
  
"What if it  _is?_ " she worried, gnawing at her lip. "Without gas, your truck will stall, won't it? And then we'll be stuck in here as it gets colder and colder… Either that, or risk walking out in  _that_ …" She shuddered, remembering how the ice seemed to pierce her skin with its freezing temperatures.  
  
"Bullshit," he muttered. "I'm not going out in that again. Nearly froze my balls off rescuing  _your_ cute ass…" He shook his head, swinging the truck around and taking off down another street. "Look, worse comes to worst and the truck dies on us, we'll get naked and share heat." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I'm willing to lose some clothes to keep you alive, babe."  
  
Rachel rolled her eyes, though a small chuckle did escape her. "How gallant of you, Noah."  
  
He shrugged. "Already tossed my hat into the hero ring, might as well go all the way…"  
  
"Well, you do have an amazing capacity for heroics."  
  
He frowned, brows furrowed. "Thanks?"  
  
She smiled. "You're welcome. Praise well deserved."  
  
Apparently, they  _were_  lucky, because her road wasn't nearly as blocked as his. It took some doing, but he eventually managed get his truck down the road and into her driveway. He was parked sideways and he wasn't sure he'd be able to get out, but at least they were somewhere with food and shelter.  
  
She held her breath when she jumped out of his truck. The cold, snowy air blasted her in the face and her breath left her on a skittering gasp. She ran around the truck and toward her front door, reaching for her pocket only to remember that she was no longer wearing her jacket. "Rats!" She turned back around and raced toward his truck, but the snow and ice were working against her. It seemed to take forever before she was finally back at her door with her keys, holding them up with shaky hands, trying and missing the lock twice before Puck took them from her. She could feel him just behind her; his body shielding her from the force of the wind. Snow kept falling in her eyes, catching on her eyelashes, and she thought, for a moment, that it would be pretty if it weren't so unwanted and cold.  
  
Finally, he shoved the door wide open and she nearly fell inside with relief. "Oh, thank goodness," she said, kicking her shoes off along with the clumps of snow still clinging desperately to the yoga pants she'd put on over her dancing outfit. The ends were soaking wet and her legs stung beneath as she stood shuffling back and forth on her feet.  
  
Puck closed the door behind him and locked it, like he thought the storm outside might try to infiltrate her house as well.  
  
When she looked back, she realized he was still in a t-shirt, while she was thankfully covered in his hoodie.  
  
"You must be  _freezing!_ " she cried. Not waiting for a reply, she reached out and took his hand, dragging him from the front hall and directly into the living room. "Here. Light a fire. I'll get a blanket and—"  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he interrupted, holding a hand up. "You're soaking wet. And you're  _tiny_. If anybody needs to warm up, it's  _you_."  
  
"Honestly, Noah, I'm sure as soon as you get the fire going and I get moving, I'll be fine. I can just—"  
  
"You need to change," he said, his voice brooking no argument.  
  
She frowned. "And I will, just as soon as—"  
  
He sighed, and without warning bent over and scooped her up over his shoulder.  
  
"Noah!" She beat on his back with her fists, but it did little to deter him.  
  
He carried her right up the stairs to her bedroom, and while she didn't appreciate his caveman behavior, she could appreciate the display of strength it took. Some of which she could see in the flexing of his back. He stopped in her bedroom and dropped her back on the bed, where she bounced twice before hopping off to stand, hands on her hips.  
  
"Think of it this way… You get sick and it's bad for your voice," he told her simply. "So strip off all the cold, wet junk and put on something warm." He looked around thoughtfully and shook his head. "Wind like that, I dunno how long the electricity's gonna last, so we might have to camp out by the fire for awhile."  
  
"Fine," she decided, lifting his hoodie up and off of herself, shivering as her cold house, empty and unused since she left for her dance lesson, set her skin to freezing once more.  
  
She held his hoodie out to him and he tossed it over his shoulder. "You got a dryer I can throw this in?"  
  
"Main floor, just off from the kitchen," she told him.  
  
"Cool." He walked to her door. "Hey, if you jump in for a hot shower and need somebody to wash your back, I'm available," he called out as he left.  
  
She rolled her eyes, amused by his boldness. "Uh-huh,  _thank you_ ," she sing-songed in reply.  
  
His light laughter echoed back to her as she began undressing. And truthfully, when she dropped her wet clothes in her basket and replaced them with a dry long-sleeved shirt and a pair of grey sweat pants that were anything but flattering, she did feel better. Even more so in her pink wooly socks and having towel-dried her hair.  
  
Walking back downstairs, she listened for the noise of the dryer and smiled approvingly as she heard it going. "I'm going to find something for us to eat," she called out to him.  
  
Working on the fire now, he replied, "Hey, you're getting  _real_ food, right? Not any of the bird seed crap you eat…?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Noah, I'll find you something very  _manly_ to eat," she teased.  
  
"Sweet."  
  
She could hear him fiddling with the wood and called out to tell him where the lighter was while she put together a tray of food they could both enjoy. Sure, he probably wouldn't touch the fruit or vegetables, but she made up a roast beef sandwich with all the trimmings, even cheese, though she didn't like to even  _touch_ half the products necessary. He was lucky her parents didn't follow the same strict vegan diet she did or he'd be stuck eating a variety of food that she was sure he wouldn't agree with.  
  
The lights were on and a fire was roaring when she returned to the living room. Crouched low, he stabbed at the logs with the fire poker, smiling as sparks flew. He always did have an unusual affinity toward fire.  
  
"Here," she said, placing the tray on the living room table. "I brought you a Gatorade too. Since the only other drinks I have are soy milk and water."  
  
"S'cool." He took a seat on the floor and dug in immediately. Grabbing up the meaty sandwich in one hand while rubbing an apple to a shine on his shirt.  
  
She sat daintily on the edge of the couch, picking at the trail mix and taking a celery stick filled with peanut butter.  
  
He was halfway through his sandwich before it dawned on him. "I should call my ma," he said. He frowned a moment later. "I think my cell's in my truck."  
  
Nodding, she retrieved the phone for him and handed it over.  
  
He picked food from his teeth as he told his mother he was safe and with her and that he'd wait the storm out. She promised she'd let him know when the snow plow cleared their street and then made a not so subtle comment about how Rachel was a nice, Jewish girl.  
  
Rachel hoped the heat of the fire hid her blush well as she pretended not to hear Mrs. Puckerman's very loud voice. She focused instead on the mixed vegetables.  
  
When he finally hung up, he rolled his shoulders and tossed the phone across her to the couch seat. "You heard that, right?"  
  
She looked away.  
  
He shrugged. "She knows she's loud, she just doesn't think I'll listen if she's not yelling."  
  
Rachel raised a brow. "Would you?"  
  
He grinned. "Probably not."  
  
She shook her head amusedly.  
  
"You should check and see if your TV works… We've got cable and it's dead. You're hooked up with satellite though, right?"  
  
"Yes, but with winds like this, I'm sure the dish is out of commission." Still, she grabbed up her remote and checked, only to get a No Signal sign across her screen. She blew out an irritated breath before perking up hopefully. "We have a ton of movies," she said.  
  
He looked over at her skeptically. "Like, movies without  _singing_ …"  
  
She laughed under her breath. "Yes. My daddy happens to be a big fan of shoot 'em up style cinema… He's entirely too fond of Bruce Willis. It's something my parents bicker about regularly. See, my daddy thinks Bruce Willis is very talented and my dad thinks daddy just think he's handsome." She combed her fingers through her hair absently. "To be honest, I think they're both right."  
  
"You're into Bruce Willis?" His lips quirked in a smirk. "Seriously?"  
  
"What? He has a certain appeal."  
  
"He's like  _fifty_ …"  
  
"Mid-fifties makes sense," she agreed.  
  
"And I thought  _I_ liked 'em old."  
  
She scoffed. "Noah, my interest in Bruce Willis is  _nothing_ like your tawdry liaisons with married women."  
  
"They're not  _all_ married…" He shook his head. "Some of them are divorced."  
  
She wrinkled her nose. " _Still_ … I admire Bruce Willis for his talent and skill."  
  
"Hey, I admired the  _talent_ and  _skill_ of the local housewives too…" He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis.  
  
"Gross!" she told him, throwing a couch pillow at his head.  
  
He chuckled, batting it away easily. "Whatever. Bruce Willis is a BAMF, I just didn't think you'd be into that."  
  
"He does have a bad boy with a good heart appeal to him," she acknowledge. "Not unlike  _you_." She smirked and added, "And you probably have about the same amount of hair."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Hey, the 'hawk is a  _lifestyle_ , okay? I'm not  _balding_."  
  
"Details," she muttered. Standing from the couch, she made her way over to the DVD cabinet, opening the double doors and showing him the very large collection of movies inside. Proudly, she waved a hand to it. "It's genre and alphabetically coordinated. That way, if you're so unwilling to view something expertly crafted and musically enhanced, you can find something here in the action section, where we have the collective works of the likes of Bruce Willis, Clint Eastwood, Tom Cruise, Will Smith, Jason Statham, and—"  
  
"Tell me you have Chuck Norris in that Narnia-looking wardrobe thing," he interrupted.  
  
"It's a  _cabinet_ ," she corrected. "And yes, we do have Chuck Norris' many movies, including his TV series, Walker, Texas Ranger and the short-lived, Sons of Thunder."  
  
Clapping his hands together, Puck jumped up excitedly. "This is gonna be the badassedest storm ever."  
  
Rachel shook her head. "That is so far from being a word, it's not even funny."  
  
"Shhh…" He waved a hand at her, staring in awe at the Chuck Norris section. "Let me bask."  
  
She smiled. "Fine. Bask away." She walked back to the couch and took her seat once more, taking another two celery sticks as she watched him struggle over which movie he wanted to watch first.  
  
"Okay… We're gonna start with  _Breaker! Breaker!_ " he told her, holding it up for her to see. "Not his best. But it's his first big role, y'know? So we gotta start at the beginning."  
  
Rachel chewed thoughtfully, licking peanut butter from her lip. "To be honest, I haven't seen any of his movies. Dad and daddy are avid fans and I did enjoy the TV show when I was younger and daddy put it on. But you know how I feel about violence, Noah…"  
  
He shook his head. "No, babe, that's the best part… Yeah, he's a kickass BAMF, but he always tries to like, talk it out with them first, y'know? Go the peaceful route, be the bigger man, all that crap you like."  
  
She rolled her eyes at his wording, but tipped her head thoughtfully. "If you say so…"  
  
"Trust me." He walked over to her TV and knelt down to pop it in the DVD player. "You'll be rooting for him in the end. I'm tellin' you."  
  
Puck was right.  
  
Three and a half movies and six hours later, Rachel had become a Chuck Norris fan.  
  
Halfway through The Octagon, however, and the power went out on them.  
  
"What? But—No!" Rachel cried, casting her eyes around despairingly. "I want to know how it ends!"  
  
Puck sighed. "Man, I haven't seen that one in forever…"  
  
She turned to him hopefully. "But you know what happens, don't you?" She reached out and gripped his arm. "Noah, you have to tell me. I'm  _invested_."  
  
He chuckled under his breath. "We'll put it back on when the power comes back," he assured.  
  
She pouted at him, sticking her lower lip out. But when he gave her no more, she harrumphed and turned back around to face the TV. "I can't believe I've been so negligent to Chuck Norris. I've had his movies in my house this whole time and I never once thought to watch them. I mean, yes, they're violent, and the soundtrack in each is questionable, but there's something about him…" She shook her head. "It's hard to imagine, somebody with that much strength in them, not abusing it…" Her brow furrowed.  
  
"Maybe that's just 'cause everybody you knew who was powerful or popular made other people feel like crap." Puck shrugged, tossing popcorn up in the air and catching it with his mouth. "Like all the kids at school and the slushees…"  
  
Rachel frowned, nodding. "You could be right… Maybe I just expect that anybody with authority won't use it for the right reasons. It's not something I  _support_ …" She shook her head. "You were right. There was a kind heart behind Chuck Norris' butt-kicking persona."  
  
His lips quirked. "Ass kicking," he corrected.  
  
She rolled her eyes, but didn't chastise him on his language. She'd gotten tired of that some time after the first movie. Noah was a movie-talker. He was constantly trying to give the actors the heads-up about the next bad guy creeping up on them. She found it amusing, even if he did curse like a sailor. By the second movie, she was just as involved, crying out, "Behind you, Chuck Norris!" and pointing at the screen.  
  
Despite the fact the blizzard was still blowing away outside her house, the electricity was out, they hadn't finished their movie, and Puck had cleared out a good portion of their snack foods, Rachel could fondly say she'd had a lovely evening. The flickering fire kept them warm and Puck happened to be a fantastic pillow. She'd rested her head on his shoulder and tucked a throw blanket around her legs when they first put A Force of One on and he'd slid an arm snugly around her, his fingers absently playing with her hair, now having curled from the moisture; they hadn't moved except to trade movies.  
  
"What time's it?" he wondered.  
  
Rachel squinted at the clock across the room on the wall. "Eleven…?" Just as she spoke, she began to yawn.  
  
Puck kicked the table. "I'm bored."  
  
"I'm afraid without electricity our options for entertainment are slim… I have board games," she suggested, lifting her brows.  
  
"Hmm…" He frowned. "You got Monopoly?"  
  
She grinned. "I do, actually."  
  
"Awesome. Shottie the car!" he cheered happily.  
  
Rachel smiled at his enthusiasm, sitting up and standing from the couch. She stretched her arms high above her head and felt her muscles stretch wonderfully, from the length of her legs all the way up to the curve of her neck. When she turned around to tell him the game was downstairs in the rec room, she noticed he was staring. In fact, his eyes were glued to the sliver of bare skin between the end of her shirt and the top of her low-slung sweatpants. Suddenly the fire wasn't all that hot at all; not in comparison to the smoldering look on Noah's face.  
  
Boldly, Rachel arched her back, stretching herself even more. She watched as Puck's jaw ticked and his tongue darted out, dabbing at his lower lip, his eyes never leaving her body. She felt warm all over; more attractive than she had in a very long time. There was something about Noah that made her feel sexy, feminine. When she was with Finn, she'd felt pretty, sometimes, but younger than even her admittedly young age. There was an insecurity that made her squirm when Finn looked at her; like he might be listing her faults in his head or comparing her to Quinn or Santana. As much as she'd loved him, the chemistry between them felt more sweet than sexy. Like holding hands was worth blushing over still. Puck made something stir inside her; he made her gut clench and her thighs flex and a damp heat roar up inside her.  
  
But he was her friend, and she was tempting something she wasn't sure she understood.  
  
She dropped back to her heels, her arms falling to her sides. "I'll go get the game," she told him, her voice softer than necessary.  
  
Brought out of his staring, he nodded jerkily, sitting back against the couch and turning his eyes to the fire.  
  
Searching out a flashlight in the kitchen, Rachel used it to navigate downstairs and find the Monopoly game. It took a lot more work than it would have had they still had the help of lights, but she eventually carried it back upstairs.  
  
Puck had cleared off the living room table, bringing all the snack bowls and their mess into the kitchen. He moved the table a little closer to the fire so they'd be able to see and was sitting back against the couch, arm resting on an upturned knee.  
  
"Starting to think you got lost," he said in greeting.  
  
She dropped down to her knees and placed the game in front of him. "I have excellent navigation skills."  
  
He smirked. "Unless you're stuck in a storm."  
  
She pursed her lips at him. "I maintain that I would've eventually figured out which way I should've been going."  
  
"Sure… Around the same time your toes would've been frozen solid and hypothermia set in."  
  
"Your vote of confidence is astounding," she muttered, beginning to set up the game.  
  
"You should be banker," he told her, sitting forward. "I always steal."  
  
She snorted. "At least you're honest."  
  
He shrugged. "I have a history of theft, B. You should know that by now."  
  
"You stole  _one_ ATM," she dismissed.  
  
He stared at her wide-eyed. "Do you  _hear_ what you just said?"  
  
She laughed. "All right, so it's not the most acceptable form of rebellion…" She shrugged, separating the cards out into piles. "Noah, you just went through something incredibly life-changing… Nobody could have expected that you would bounce back easily…"  
  
He scoffed, a familiar misery drawing his face. "I'm a screw-up," he told her. "I was lucky before, but I had to get caught eventually. And nobody was surprised…"  
  
She shook her head, her hair falling in her eyes. "When Mr. Shue told us you were in juvie, I was worried. I was concerned that maybe you had already made a decision in your life that you could never take back…" She frowned. "But the boy who came back was changed for the better. Yes, you still hit a few road bumps, but I could see that you wanted to be better than what you had been."  
  
He turned his eyes off to stare at the dancing fire.  
  
Rachel reached out and squeezed his hand, hanging over his knee. "You started spending time with Artie and you had that short-lived infatuation with Lauren." She nodded. "You were finding yourself and you made it clear that while the bravado was still there, jail or juvie was no longer an option for you."  
  
Sitting back on her heels, she separated all of the colorful bills out into their slots. "So yes, you stole  _one_ ATM… And yes, it wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done… But that doesn't mean you're some untrustworthy thief that I can't even trust with Monopoly money…" She shook her head, smiling gently. "You still have the rest of your life to leave an impression, Noah. Don't sell yourself short before you've even had a chance to do anything." Dropping the game box off to the side, she placed the money in front of him and turned back to the board.  
  
"Now," She held out a hand, "I believe we each get $1,500."  
  
When he didn't immediately place the money in her palm, she turned to look at him, only to see his brows were furrowed and he was staring at her intensely. Not with that same sexually charged look of earlier, but something far deeper than that; something that went past the exterior of things to the very heart of the matter. She couldn't lie and say she'd never seen that expression on his face, or that he'd never directed it at her, but in the times previous, she had always had a boyfriend, or convinced herself that she was too focused on her career to pay it much mind. But now, in her fire lit living room, she saw Noah Puckerman and his every obvious feeling staring her in the face.  
  
She swallowed tightly, her eyes falling, darting, nervousness flooding her body. She didn't know what to say.  
  
He cleared his throat, leaned forward, and started counting out the money, placing it in her hand, his fingers brushing hers each time. "Two five-hundreds, two hundreds, two fifties, six twenties, five fives, and five ones…" he counted.  
  
She nodded, glancing at him briefly.  
  
He curled her fingers around it and then tapped them lightly.  
  
When she caught his eyes again, he grinned. "You're goin' down, Berry…" He nodded his head at her Scottish terrier token piece next to his car on Go. "And your little dog too."  
  
A laugh bubbled up out of her and she let her nervousness ebb away.  
  
"We'll see, Puckerman," she returned before looking down at the game with a wide smile.  
  
Forty minutes later and Rachel was making good on her promise. "I'll buy."  
  
"Rach, you  _know_ I need Atlantic to get all three."  
  
"Of course I do. But if I let you have everything you need, the chances of winning become slimmer." She shook her head and picked up her money. "The object of the game is to make you bankrupt, Noah… I'm sorry, but I will resort to cutting you off at the knees every chance I get."  
  
He stared at her. "I can't tell if your devious side turns me on or scares me."  
  
She smirked. "Probably a little of both."  
  
He laughed, handing her card over in exchange for her money. "Turned on," he decided. "Always."  
  
She rolled her eyes lightly, adding her card to the others. "I'm sure you  _think_ that's flattering…"  
  
"I  _know_ it is," he told her simply.  
  
She snorted under her breath.  
  
He raised a brow at her. "You really wanna play like you don't like that I think you're hot?"  
  
"No… I know you're attracted to me." She shrugged. "But my physical attributes don't make me up as a whole. Jacob Ben Israel finds me attractive too. I'm certainly not flattered by his attention."  
  
"Okay, me and Ben Israel are nothing alike," he argued, shaking his head. "He's a creep who likes to catch a sneak peek up your skirt… I've actually had a  _hand_ up your skirt and it was  _invited_."  
  
She laughed.  
  
"And besides, that little turd doesn't even know you. He's weird and creepy and he's had a thing for you since we were little and our parents made us hang out at temple…" He snorted. "You were all pretty and you had shiny hair with yellow ribbons in it; I remember 'cause he tried to untie one when he kept sniffing you…" He rolled his eyes.  
  
She smiled faintly. "I had yellow ribbons in my hair?"  
  
"Yeah, tied around your braids," he muttered, rolling the dice. "I got grounded for a week after I punched that dude out."  
  
"Well… We were  _four_ … And our parents had no idea why you'd attacked him. If I remember correctly, nobody could understand me because I was crying so hard."  
  
"Yeah, well, he freaked you out." He moved his piece along and landed on one of the rail road squares that he already owned.  
  
"You were my knight in shining armor even back then," she said, reaching for the dice.  
  
"Yeah, well, musta taken a wrong turn somewhere. And there was a 7-Eleven on the block, 'cause I picked a slushee up and tossed it in your face as soon as high school started."  
  
Rachel tipped her head. "Noah, you know I've forgiven you for that…" She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. "And I never meant to offend you. I wasn't implying you and Jacob were alike. I just meant that while you say you like my appearance often, or you comment on your attraction to me, it isn't always flattering…" She shrugged. "Eventually, the shine wears off, especially if you know that it's just something physical… Something I'm sure you've said to a number of women in the past…" She rubbed her thumb into his forearm gently. "And I'm not judging, even if I think that behavior could be hazardous to your health. I'm just saying that…" She sighed. "I don't even know what I'm saying. I only want you to know that I never meant to hurt your feelings."  
  
He frowned, not saying anything for a few minutes, instead letting them play their game in tense silence.  
  
Finally, when she'd spent five minutes deliberating another way to soothe his ire, he spoke. "I'm eighteen, so yeah, I like sex and I like women, and I'm not gonna lie and say I haven't told a  _lot_ of women they were hot…" He shook his head, turning his eyes up to look at her. "But what I like about you isn't all physical…" He shrugged, flicking his game cards uncomfortably. "You're loud and crazy and I think if you could, you'd narrate your life in singing…" He laughed shortly. "And I kinda like that… I like that you're just,  _you_ , take it or leave it… No bullshit." He cleared his throat, darting his eyes down. "I mean, yeah, for awhile there, with Finn, you kinda lost that… But when you kicked him to the curb, it was the same old Rachel Berry; all big dreams and determination. And I lo—" He licked his lips. "I like that just as much as your killer legs."  
  
Rachel smiled slowly, her lips shaking. "That's… far more flattering," she told him breathlessly.  
  
He nodded, eyes glued to the game. "Your turn."  
  
Rachel landed on a Chance, and thought it was quite fitting.

 

An hour later, they finally agreed to call it a tie and put it away. Rachel demanded a re-match in the morning and a yawning Puck agreed.

  
He put out the fire while she made sure everything was tidied up, folding up the throw blanket and putting the dishes in the sink.  
  
He followed her upstairs, where she found a few extra blankets for him and led him to the guest room. It was dark, so he couldn't see much, but she still told him about how she'd helped her dad redecorate and picked the paint out herself. She imagined when he woke up and found himself wrapped in a very flowery blanket, he wouldn't care much for it, but it was warm and that was all that mattered.  
  
After a whispered goodnight, though she couldn't imagine why, since nobody but them were home, she tiptoed back to her room to climb into her cold bed. She considered changing into pajamas but the biting winter season had seemingly infiltrated her bedroom and the thought of changing out of her warm clothes wasn't appealing. She blew hot air into her hands as she lay on her side, beneath two thick blankets, legs curled close to her chest. But as time ticked on, she began to shiver, feeling as though the blankets would never grow warm. Her previous tiredness had faded and now she could do nothing but stare out her bedroom window at the snow falling in the moonlight, the window kicking it all around.  
  
She tried turning over, but the cold pillow case against her cheek made her breath catch and the sheets weren't warming up fast enough for her liking.  
  
She lasted twenty minutes before she finally threw off her blankets and hurried down the hallway.  
  
Noah's door was closed but unlocked and she tiptoed in silently, worried that he might have already fallen asleep.  
  
His arm was behind his head as he turned to look at her, brow furrowed. "What's up?"  
  
"It's cold in my room," she said, biting her lip as her eyes darted away. "I was thinking it could be mutually beneficial to share a sleeping space…"  
  
He laughed under his breath. "Climb in."  
  
Sighing with relief, she hurried over and quickly climbed beneath the covers. But as they slipped down, she noticed his bare chest. And as she slid in closer, she couldn't feel the rustling of any clothing next to her. "Are you… Are you  _naked_ right now?" she asked, gripping the blanket to her chest.  
  
"Are you really surprised?"  
  
"Noah!" She turned to look at him with wide eyes. "I can't stay in your bed if you're  _nude!_ "  
  
"Listen Rach, here's the deal…" He stared up at her seriously. "I'm not putting on clothes."  
  
She huffed.  
  
"I'm comfortable," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "And this is how I always sleep."  
  
"Fine." She laid back against the pillows. "But  _only_ because I'm cold…" She tucked the blankets in around her, trying hard not to think about the fact that mere inches from her was a very naked boy. "I'm going to have to wash all the bedding when the electricity comes back on…"  
  
"Probably a good idea," he agreed.  
  
She frowned, turning her eyes toward him. "You weren't… I—I mean, you weren't  _doing_ anything before I came in, were you?" she wondered, her voice raising an octave.  
  
"I'm naked in a house with a hot chick and no parents in sight…" he returned, amused. "You really think I was just sleeping?"  
  
"Ugh!" Rachel closed her eyes, trying not to get the image out of her head of him and his hand and—Her face felt warm and she opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling, brows furrowed. Thinking of Noah Puckerman without clothes on was one thing. Thinking of him masturbating was another. She wiggled, squeezing her thighs together.  
  
"Quit moving," he muttered.  
  
"I'm cold," she told him. And though parts of her were starting to warm up, her feet were freezing.  
  
"I'm not."  
  
She pouted. "How is it possible that you're wearing less than me but still warm?"  
  
"I dunno…" He shrugged. "I'm just naturally hot."  
  
Rachel rolled her eyes and turned onto her side. "No-ahh…"  
  
Sighing, he held an arm out to her. "C'mon."  
  
She stared at him uncertainly. It was tempting, certainly, and really she didn't know what else he could offer her except his body heat. "I'll just… keep my hands in PG places," she decided, scurrying closer.  
  
With her head on his shoulder and her arm hesitantly wrapped around his waist, she slid her lower body closer until was flattened along his side.  
  
"Y'know, technically…" he said, in a voice that promised he was about to say something ridiculous, " _I'm_  a parent… And my guidance is that you put your hands anywhere and everywhere…"  
  
"Noah!"  
  
"Don't back talk," he said.  
  
She laughed, turning her face to bury her amusement in his chest.  
  
A few minutes later, she found herself warm but wide awake. She knew he was too, because his thumb was drawing circles on her shoulder absently. It was soothing and intimate and she found herself thinking that she wanted to remember this moment forever. She wanted to imprint the warm, masculine scent of him in her nose and tattoo the hard feel of his body into her skin. Maybe tomorrow, when the snow cleared, they would return to just being those friends of before. She would go back to pretending the way he looked at her didn't mean more than it did. And the way her heart skittered or how her body flushed every time his eyes lingered was completely physical. Closing her eyes, she wondered if he would remember it too. Shuffling her hips down a little, she drew her leg up, but as her thigh slid past a noticeable bulge and Puck's breath hitched, she paused.  
  
Her leg laid heavy over his groin and her sweatpants were helpless against the heat and firm outline pressing insistently against her thigh.  
  
"Rach?"  
  
Her heart thumped.  
  
She wasn't sure, at first, what made her do it, but she drew her leg down an inch or two and then rubbed it back up in a firm stroke.  
  
His hand shook against her shoulder.  
  
She did it again, twice more, before he groaned, hips jerking up.  
  
She bit her lip, watching the progress of her leg beneath the blanket, feeling him get harder beneath her. She watched through half-lidded eyes as her movements drew the blanket down lower, inch by inch, revealing his bare chest and stomach, his abdomen rippling and tightening. Her arm drew back and her hand wandered over his ribs to lay centered atop his chest, fingers spread out enough that her pinkie gently nudged the ring in his nipple.  
  
She felt him twitch against her thigh and her own breath left her on a tiny gasp.  
  
"You gotta stop," he muttered, his voice strained. He lifted his head and dropped it back to his pillow.  
  
Her hand slid down his chest, following the smooth, hard plains of his stomach. "What if… I don't want to?"  
  
He caught her fingers just as they walked down the trail of dark hair leading from his navel.  
  
"Rachel…" His voice was throaty, hoarse. "You have to be sure about this."  
  
She looked up at him, at the hard clench of his jaw and the furrow at his brows. He was trying very hard to be a gentleman, she decided, worried that she might be doing something she wasn't entirely certain about. And yes, he had some reason to think that, seeing as she'd only been with Finn once, at the beginning of the school year, not very long before she broke up with him. So no, sex wasn't something she would list as one of many things she'd practiced and was a pro at. But if he feared that she didn't want to do this with  _him_  or that she might  _regret_ him in some way, then he was completely wrong.  
  
She shook his hand off and with her eyes holding his, slid her fingers down to wrap firmly around his shaft. As his mouth fell open, she smiled. "I'm sure," she told him simply.  
  
His head fell back as she drew her palm along the soft skin of his penis. She wondered if that was the word she wanted to use. It was so clinical. So unsexy. And what had she been thinking earlier about Noah? That he made her feel sexy; bold; feminine. So what was so wrong with using a word that wasn't exactly precise or accurate? Perhaps boys had penises; boys like Finn. And men, like Noah, had something sexier. Sure, they were basically the same thing, but there was a distinction still.  
  
Cock, she decided. Noah had a cock.  
  
One she was gripping rather firmly; one she was stroking. One that was surprisingly soft despite how hard it was. From the brief time she'd spent with Finn between her legs, she remembered she hadn't really touched him. He had fumbled quite a bit between her thighs before she'd merely batted his hands away and gotten herself ready. So having her hand on Noah was a new experience, one she was a little worried she was doing badly.  
  
"Am I doing this right?" she wondered.  
  
He took her hand, the pad of his thumb sliding up hers before he brought it back and licked it. She wrinkled her nose, but when he wound her hand tighter around him and guided her motions, she did notice that his spit made it much easier. Now knowing what kind of pressure he liked, she told him to let go and took over once more. His arm was behind his head again, holding him up so he could watch, while the other was on her back, having slid up beneath her shirt, spread out warmly on her bare skin. She decided she enjoyed exploring and experimenting. He liked it when she swiped her thumb along the head, rubbing his pre-cum along the slit. He especially liked it when she twisted her hand randomly.  
  
It was a few minutes before she decided it wasn't enough. She let him go so she could move up to her knees, getting a better look and a better grip. Rachel had seen penises before, what with movies and TV and a brief experience with free internet porn, but the only penis she'd seen in person was Finn's, and both the time spent actually seeing it, and the sex itself, was quite short. But from what she could tell, he'd been well endowed. Noah was thicker. And she decided, though her experience was limited, that she liked how his penis looked. And felt.  
  
Having both her hands free, she started working them in tandem, moving them in opposite directions as she slid them up and down his shaft. She watched with satisfaction as his body tensed up, stomach tightening and flexing. She straddled his thigh both for stability and so she could watch his face. Hooded, dark eyes stared back at her and she felt a shiver run down her spine.  
  
She ducked her head then and his brows arched ever so slightly. Her hair slid down, brushing against his hips, and she smiled as he twitched in her grip. Her tongue reached out and dabbed at the crown of his cock. He tasted warm and salty. She dragged her tongue along the slit and watched as his teeth clenched and his eyes shut tight.  
  
Sliding her hands down and off his cock, she carefully took him into her mouth. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but when his eyes shot open and met hers, determination and a whole lot of pride encouraged her forward. Not for the first time, Rachel decided her subscription to Cosmopolitan was well worth it. She was careful with her teeth and thanking her lucky stars for her lack of gag reflex. She brought her thumbs around to the base of his shaft and began kneading them upwards, her fingers gently rubbing the surrounding skin.  
  
As she drew back up, she swirled her tongue around the head and wrapped her lips around it, sliding her hand back up to twist and pump him once more, and with him now damp from her mouth, her hands moved even easier.  
  
Puck was panting now, his chest heaving, and she was sure he was about to climax.  
  
He reached for her hands and stilled them, however.  
  
She frowned at him, though she imagined it didn't look nearly as irritated with her mouth filled as it was. Sitting up, she asked, "Noah?"  
  
He shook his head, and taking her hands he drew her back up the bed. She straddled his waist, staring down at him wonderingly, trying to figure out what she might've done wrong.  
  
He didn't bother answering her unvoiced question, instead reaching for the end of her shirt and tugging it up her body.  
  
She helped him remove it, ducking her head through the neck, and watching as he tossed it to the floor. His hands smoothed up her sides, thumbs rubbing against her ribs, before he sat up and slid his deft fingers behind her to unclasp her bra. Seconds later, her eyes locked with his, she felt cool air whisper against her breasts, her nipples tightening in reply. She shivered, not entirely sure if it was from the cold or the way he was looking at her. It was the same expression he'd had on earlier, when he stared at the tiny expanse of skin shown as she stretched. His eyes never left hers as his hands slid back around to cup her breasts, his thumbs strumming her nipples. Her lips parted, a sigh bursting from her.  
  
And she thought, fleetingly, how funny it was that she hadn't kissed him yet, hadn't for more than a year, but her mouth had already tasted parts of him far more intimate. As if knowing what she was thinking, he leaned in, slanting his mouth across hers. Her brows furrowed tightly as his tongue swept into her mouth and dragged along the roof, flicking the back of her teeth. Her hand gripped the back of his head, fingers tightening in the tail of his 'hawk. He nipped at her bottom lip before soothing it away with soft, pecking kisses. She loved how Noah kissed her. Loved how he took his time and he learned what she liked; how he seemed to explore every possible inch of her lips and her tongue and how it felt both new and familiar each time. His teeth took her lip between them and tugged. She returned the favor and nuzzled her nose against his.  
  
His arms wrapped around her waist and her chest flattened against his; her breasts rubbing, nipple catching against his ring. His hands slid down, beneath the cover of her sweatpants and panties. He dragged them down her thighs, their mouths never parting, her knees lifting one at a time, so he could free her entirely. As she dropped back down to his stomach, she could feel her own wet heat spread out along his stomach. His hands cupped her butt, squeezing and kneading, and she rocked herself just a little, liking the friction of her clit dragging along his skin. He grunted at the sensation before his fingers wandered lower and, from behind, slid across her folds.  
  
She squeaked in surprise and arched her back, spreading her knees further apart. His fingers circled, spreading moisture all over. As he sunk the tips of two fingers inside her, she gripped his shoulder tight, her nails digging in. She lost concentration; her mouth parted, brow furrowed, as she focused on how it felt, moving inside her just a little bit at a time. "More… More…" she murmured, toes curling into the sheet beneath them.  
  
His hand slid away and she frowned, eyes opening to stare at him questioningly.  
  
He grinned and, without warning, rolled her backwards onto the bed, so she was spread out beneath him, legs parted widely.  
  
Crawling up her, elbows digging into the mattress, he kissed her pursed lips before burying his mouth at her neck. Attention diverted to Noah's wonderful hickey making skills, her hands found his shoulders once more and wandered along around the tensed muscles and the curve of his neck. She furled one hand in the tail of his 'hawk while the other traced the shell of his ear, over and over, slowly and delicately.  
  
His body flattened against hers, the hard expanse of his bare chest settling atop hers, his nipple ring rubbing against her skin.  
  
When he was happy with whatever he'd created on the pulse at her neck, he started kissing his way down her chest, dragging his teeth across her collar bone before he rubbed a cheek against her breast. She watched as his mouth wrapped around her nipple, a flash of white teeth before they clamped down softly, his tongue flicking back and forth. A full body shudder ran through her and his hand rose up, knuckles sliding down her ribs before he splayed a palm across her stomach, thumb rubbing circles around her navel.  
  
He released her breast with a pop before kissing his way down. He dragged his chin over the strip of neatly trimmed dark hair before his mouth was buried against her. He licked one long taste of her, tongue curling at the end to flick her clit, and she clenched her thighs around his head helplessly. He smoothed his hands down her legs and drew them apart.  
  
"I've never…" she started, but was quickly distracted when his tongue started working circles all around. "Never…"  
  
"I got you," he said simply.  
  
She nodded, biting hard on her lip.  
  
Between his tongue and fingers, Rachel was fairly sure that her insanity meter had skyrocketed. For all he boasted about being a hickey connoisseur, Rachel thought he had an ever better handle on this. Two of his fingers slid in and out of her slowly, sometimes just a little bit to tease her, and sometimes he'd curve them or scissor them apart. He kept up a constant stimulation around but barely touching her clit, every once in a while letting his tongue or nose ghost across it.  
  
Sweat had broken out across her skin and she'd been balanced on the precipice of orgasm for what felt like ages.  
  
"Noah, please… Please, please, please," she muttered, feeling incoherent in her desperation.  
  
"You taste sweet," he told her. "Eat you all night."  
  
She felt like crying, and at the same time encouraging it.  
  
"Later," he decided. "Lots of time."  
  
His fingers curved again while his thumb rubbed random circles all around. His lips closed around her clit and sucked, tongue flicking it over and over.  
  
Her chest heaved up off the bed, mouth ajar, and she closed her eyes tight as she felt something break and shatter all across her body, waves of it spreading out across every inch of her skin. She couldn't remember to breathe at first, so focused on the pure bliss that he was strumming over and over, encouraging it on with each movement of his mouth and his fingers. She gripped what little hair he had and was caught between yanking his head back and shoving it closer. He ducked a little and lapped at the heat flowing out of her.  
  
Her breath left her on a long, happy sigh. When she looked down, he was resting his face on her thigh, smirking proudly at the dreamy expression on her face. Crawling back up her, he rubbed his face dry on her belly before he kissed her lazily. She could still taste herself on his tongue. As he kissed her chin, she told him, "I liked that."  
  
He laughed. "Yeah, noticed."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "That was the first time I've ever…" She frowned. "Well, it's first time I've ever had anybody's mouth there, but also the first time I climaxed… I mean, besides on my own."  
  
His brows hiked. "Finn never…"  
  
"He tried… And I felt bad that he couldn't so I pretended he had…" She smiled widely. "My acting skills really do come in handy even off stage."  
  
"Yeah, well, you're never gonna have to fake it with me." He patted her hip before leaning over the side of the bed.  
  
She watched him curiously as he lifted his jeans and dug inside. When he held up a condom, she raised a brow. "Everywhere you go?"  
  
"You kidding… After Beth, I felt like wearing one constantly." He stared down at her wonderingly. "You sure you wanna do this? 'Cause we can stop now and just…" His eyes darted away. "I dunno… Blame it on a lapse of judgment on your part…"  
  
"And what will your excuse be?" she wondered.  
  
"I don't need one." He shrugged. "Look, Rachel, we got six months of school left and if you think I'm gonna play dumb or pretend this didn't happen, I'm not… I don't wanna be that mistake you made and you keep trying to forget… I don't wanna do that again. I don't wanna stand in the background while you look for Prince Charming in somebody else…" He stared at her searchingly. "I can be that guy. I can be  _your_ guy. You just gotta gimme a  _real_ chance." He licked his lips. "But this can't just be sex for me 'cause you… How I  _feel_ about you…" His jaw clenched as he shook his head. "I know I've fucked up but it's like, when I'm with you, I'm better… And I'm happy. You and your—your crazy and your dreams and how much you believe in me, I like it. I like  _you_. So…" He licked his lips, eyes wide. "Last chance. No taking this back."  
  
Rachel stared at him, his teeth clenched, a look on his face like he was still waiting for her to say, 'Well since you put it that way…'  
  
Instead, she took the condom from his fingers and carefully tore open the side. "There's no lapse in judgment, Noah… I know exactly what I'm doing and what I want… I could never regret you." She drew her fingers down his cheek. "You're not a mistake."  
  
He stared at her a long moment before leaning in.  
  
As his mouth slanted across hers, hard and possessive, she could feel his hands moving between them, putting the condom on. She hitched her knees up on his sides and trailed her fingers down his head, feeling the bristles of his hair tickling her palm.  
  
When he slid inside her, she felt every inch. She felt his breath stutter against her lips and his stomach contract against hers. He held one of hers hands, their fingers knotted together, and his damp forehead touched hers. He drew out of her slowly only to snap his hips and fill her once more. His hand cupped her breast, thumb tweaking and rubbing her nipple, while he nipped and suckled her lower lip in tandem. He built it up just like he had with his mouth, and she wondered if this was the first time he'd ever made love. Not because he was awkward, but because he was so gentle with her. And for some reason, she just couldn't imagine him taking that much care with anybody else. It could've been her ego, of course, but she felt like in that moment, connected as they were, he was showing her a side of himself he'd never shared with anybody else.  
  
He didn't argue when she turned him over onto his back. He smiled as he held her hips and rubbed his hands down her thighs. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and felt it cling to her skin, warm and damp at her neck. Finn hadn't let her do this; he'd been heavy and almost too large on top of her. But she liked this position; she liked being in control. She liked how she could see Noah's face change as she swiveled her hips and put her kegel exercises to good use. She was happy to experiment; to learn what she liked and what he enjoyed. To feel his fingers digging into her as she rose up, flexing all around him, and then sunk down, quick and hard. She liked how his hand slid up her stomach, thumb rubbing into her soft skin. How when she bent over him to kiss him, her hair shrouded them. How he looked at her then, as their noses bumped and she took sipping kisses from his lips.  
  
When he sat up with her and she sunk into his lap, his hands cupping her buttocks and guiding her movements, she threw her head back. The new angle felt good and his mouth on her neck only heightened the feelings that were starting to radiate through her. She gripped his shoulders tight and murmured his name as his mouth fled down and buried against her chest. He felt so good inside her; so thick and hot and full. Their movements became quicker, frantic, and she grunted uncontrollably as she felt it getting closer. A part of her questioned if she could even handle it; her thighs were tightening and stretching almost painfully. Her skin felt like it was on fire; too warm and damp with sweat, dripping down her spine and between her breasts. Noah licked a bead away from her neck.  
  
His hand slid down between them and she could feel his thumb rubbing and pressing into her clit. She cried out, digging her nails in. And then she was there; that awesome feeling of rapture; of euphoria crashing inside her. She wasn't sure if she screamed or sang his name; but it left her long and loud. His arm squeezed around her as he came, panting 'Rachel' desperately, his cheek against her pounding heart.  
  
She sat there for a long time just gathering her strength, tiny shockwaves still bursting inside. She ran her hands down his neck, one after the other, fingers scraping along the tail of his 'hawk.  
  
Eventually, he laid her back on the bed, and her arms spread out beside her, heavy and useless.  
  
He climbed away to toss out the condom, leaving for the bathroom, and returning with a warm cloth.  
  
Cleaned up, they laid back in the same position they'd been in when she first climbed into bed, only now they were both naked and she was finally drowsy.  
  
"That was even better," she murmured.  
  
He chuckled. "Yeah, we're pretty awesome."  
  
She turned her head up, resting her chin on his chest, and stared at him. "I think Lady Luck was on our side the whole time," she told him. "We obviously weren't meant to go to your house."  
  
He dragged his fingers through her hair. "Ma would'a had us married by morning if she caught us like this."  
  
Rachel laughed. "Well, married or not, I'm still going to New York in the fall."  
  
"Yeah?" he smirked. "Maybe I'll see you there. I got into NYU."  
  
Her eyes widened. "What?"  
  
He grinned. "I got into a few places, but NYU's where I wanna be."  
  
"Noah, that's wonderful!" She rubbed her hand across his chest. "What are you taking? Will you be staying in the dorms? Have you explored their website? The campus looks lovely!"  
  
Shaking his head, he drew hers back down to his shoulder. "We'll talk about it in the morning."  
  
She pursed her lips, but agreed. She imagined there were a few things they would need to talk about come morning.  
  
She fell asleep smiling, drawing N.Y.C. over and over on his chest, and already dreaming of a future that was looking better and better.  
  
../..  
  
Puck woke up to the smell of breakfast.  
  
The empty space beside him made him frown as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Throwing the blankets off, he turned bleary eyes outside to see the snow had stopped. Dragging on his jeans, he walked downstairs, yawning loudly. The lights weren't on and the only heat seemed to be coming from the fire she'd restarted. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw her standing by a propane camping grill, spatula in hand. He smiled as he noticed she was wearing the hoodie he'd tossed in the dryer, which hung so long he wasn't sure there was anything underneath.  
  
"Whatcha makin'?" he asked.  
  
She jumped slightly, but turned a blindingly bright smile on him. "Pancakes," she said proudly. "I found daddy's old grill in the garage and we had pancake mix in the cupboard. It's  _vegan_ , but I swear you won't tell the difference." She motioned to the covered plate on her left. "There's plenty if you're hungry."  
  
Puck lifted up the cover and found a stack of six. He laughed. "How many are you making?"  
  
She shrugged. "You're a growing boy. And I figured, after last night, you'd be hungry." Her eyes darted away as her cheeks flushed pink.  
  
His stomach grumbled. "I am." Eyeing her long, bare legs, he muttered, "But it can wait."  
  
Her brows furrowed as she turned back around to scoop the last two pancakes off the grill and put them with the others. Flicking it off, she asked, "For what?"  
  
He grinned, sidling up close behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He nudged her hair out of the way with his chin and then pressed a kiss just beneath her ear. "Morning."  
  
She smiled, leaning back into him. "Good morning," she said softly.  
  
His arms slid lower. "Are you wearing anything under this hoodie?"  
  
She smirked, looking back at him with her brow quirked. "I'm alone in a house with no parents in sight and a boy I happen to find very,  _very_ attractive… What do you think?"  
  
As he drew the hoodie up, he found her wearing nothing but a pair of pink lace underwear.  
  
"Thank you, Lady Luck," he muttered before hooking his thumbs along the sides and tugging.  
  
He took her from behind, bent over the counter, and pocketed her panties for a souvenir.  
  
Later that afternoon, they set up Monopoly for their rematch, where his car kicked her dog's ass.  
  
The electricity came back, but the news warned the snow plows would be working overtime to clear up the streets and suggested nobody would be going anywhere for at least another night.  
  
They spent the rest of the day watching Chuck Norris movies and fooling around on the couch.  
  
When he heard the snow plow rumble down her street the next morning, he didn't wake her up. He dragged his fingers through her hair and watched her face. She was drooling on his chest and snoring lightly and it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen in his life. Not that he would admit it. Out loud. In the last 36 hours, a lot had happened, and he was still waiting for the bottom to fall out. His life had been one screw up after the other; one mistake, one let down, one abandonment issue, after another. Some were his fault, some he never got over, and some he kept expecting.  
  
Sometimes, he convinced himself that Rachel was different; she was the exception. She was the only one who admitted, without fail, without judgment, that she believed in him; that he could do whatever he wanted. She was the only one who made him feel like he could get out of Lima and make something of himself. That he wasn't another version of his deadbeat dad. And even without all that, there was something about her that always made him come back. Even when he got with Quinn or he liked Lauren or the cougars came calling again. In the back of his mind, he wondered what it would be like with Rachel. Not just because she was a badass Jew like himself, but because he liked who he was when he was with her. He liked how he felt. He liked that she stood out and stood up and she just wanted what she felt she deserved. She was beautiful and smart and she had a unique sense of humor that he didn't get right away. But he loved it. And he was pretty sure that if he wasn't already, then it'd be damn easy to fall in love with her. The only problem was convincing her and himself that she could love him back.  
  
They didn't get out of bed until noon. And Rachel didn't even bother checking outside to see if the roads were clear.  
  
He took that as a good sign.  
  
It wasn't until his ma started calling, squawking about how he should get home already that he finally accepted their little break from reality was over. His clothes were clean and dry; she'd tossed them in the washer halfway through  _Lone Wolf McQuade_  when they were already naked and she figured he liked lying around nude anyway. They cuddled up on the couch with a blanket and watched Chuck Norris kick ass. He'd been having sex since he was fifteen, but he swore that was the most intimate moment in his entire damn life.  
  
She played with the strings of his hoodie as they stood at the door, the truck warming up outside.  
  
She chewed her lip. "I don't want you to go," she murmured.  
  
"We got temple tomorrow. Last night of Hanukah."  
  
Nodding, she stared at his chest, her brows furrowed. "I got you a gift."  
  
"Only one? Where's the other seven?" he teased.  
  
"Noah!" She frowned to keep from laughing.  
  
He squeezed her hips. "What'd ya get me?"  
  
"Wait here." She turned on her heel and hurried upstairs.  
  
He regretted asking, thinking that if she'd stayed he would've gotten some more time with her before he had to leave. But as she came back down, she smiled brightly, and his regrets fled entirely. She held out her wrapped present proudly. "Open it."  
  
He tore open the paper quickly and easily, despite how she muttered that it was pretty and she could've saved it, only to find a leather-bound book inside.  
  
"It's a journal." She pointed to the front, where his initials were in gold print. She shrugged. "To get out all of your feelings or song lyrics or whatever comes to mind…" She tapped it. "I just thought it would be nice, to have something you can put everything in. Something personal." Her eyes met his. "I know you're not always comfortable sharing what you feel, which is why it's important you know that this is just yours. Nobody else has to read it. You can write about Beth or Quinn or your dad… You can write beautiful songs or," She smiled knowingly, "dirty limericks." She shook her head. "Anything that's in your heart, Noah."  
  
He shook his head, his throat a little tight. "I didn't get you anything," he said.  
  
"You already gave me something wonderful." She smiled. "Time with you." She shrugged. "And that added benefit that you likely saved my life."  
  
He snorted. "Yeah, well, that wasn't exactly planned."  
  
She shook her hand, gripping the sides of his gift meaningfully. "It's a gift, Noah. I never expected anything in return. I just wanted you to have it."  
  
Licking his lips, he nodded. And with a sigh, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.  
  
She hooked her hands in the pocket of his hoodie and closed her eyes. "Why do I feel like this is goodbye?"  
  
He closed his eyes. "Only if you want it to be."  
  
Shaking her head, she drew back to look at him seriously. "I meant what I said. You're not a regret."  
  
Sliding his hand in her hair and around the back of her neck, he pulled her in for a kiss, putting his all into it. And when they were left just standing, foreheads together, panting against each other's mouths, he said, "I should go."  
  
"Okay." She stepped back. "Oh. Wait! I made cookies for your mom and sister." She fled back down the hall toward the kitchen.  
  
Left alone, Puck searched around for a pen. He flipped his journal open and dated the top before scrawling one, simple sentence.  
  
Rachel came back and handed him a container of sugar cookies.  
  
After one more lingering kiss, Puck promised to see her at temple the next day before finally leaving.  
  
He honked as he pulled out of the driveway and watched with a half-smile as she waved at him from the front window.  
  
When he got home, he ignored his mom's hopeful expression as he handed over their sugar cookies. "How's Rachel?" she wondered, hintingly.  
  
He snorted, climbing the stairs to the second floor. "Good," he said simply. He grinned when she muttered irritably.  
  
Later that night, he re-read what he'd written in the journal.  
  
For the next six months, he read it once a day.  
  
And the day he arrived in New York, with her hand in his, was the day he wrote a new entry, and no longer had to read the last one.  
  
He never scribbled it out though.  
  
 _You just fell in love with a midget who's crazy for showtunes, don't fuck it up._  
  
But he did show it to her, six years later when they got married.  
  
Along with the second sentence he wrote.  
  
 _Nice job, now marry her_.  
  
Along the way, he filled it with the rest of his life; with the things he hadn't accomplished, the things he'd messed up along the way. He wrote about Beth on the day of her fifth birthday. About Quinn and Finn, his dad, and all the people he'd either screwed over or been screwed by. Until one day, it was full. Of song lyrics and yeah, dirty limericks. More importantly, of a life he never expected to have; a life he was grateful for every day. There were little reminders of day to day stuff, like a class he had a test in or a meeting he couldn't forget. Anniversaries and birthdays.  _Vows_. Everything.  
  
And when it was done, he put it away in his night stand, feeling like a little piece of him was missing.  
  
On the seventh day of Hanukah, with snow dancing down from the sky to fill the streets of New York, Rachel gave him a new one.  
  
And when he opened it, the first page was dated, and one simple sentence in Rachel's writing stared back at him.  
  
 _No regrets_.  
  
He agreed wholeheartedly.  
  
[ **End.** ]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
